


On Wednesdays We Commit Treason

by uglydisgrace (beautifuldisgrace)



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Commas galore, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Mean girls Au, This Is STUPID, bella fits regina so well it's not even funny, bella roasts kiki so hard he's gonna need some ice for that burn, bella's the prettiest poison you've ever seen, both the movie and the musical, but not kieran, everyone simps for bella, hopefully it won't leave a scar like sake's, lots and lots of mean girls refs, ughhhh so much exposition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:20:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25878820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifuldisgrace/pseuds/uglydisgrace
Summary: Don't be fooled by the pink, Belladonna Davenport is not playing nice.
Relationships: Kieran White & Belladonna Davenport, Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White, William Hawkes/Kym Ladell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	On Wednesdays We Commit Treason

**Author's Note:**

> my brain: grace, i’m begging you… please stop writing crack fics… you have homework to do…  
> me: haha mean girls au go brrrr

The Phantom Scythe claimed to want equality for all the citizens of Ardhalis--a rather hypocritical statement for an organization whose hierarchy was no better than that of a public high school. There were bullies, there were jocks, and there were cliques. And nowhere was the pecking order more obvious than in the bar-room of the Grim Goblin.

Kieran White sat on a bench by the edge of the room, sloshing beer around his wooden mug. It wasn’t his usual scene (he would have greatly preferred a quiet night at home sketching portraits), but he had a meeting with the Messenger that evening about some new mission.

He stared pensively into the amber depths of his cup, with nothing better to do, when the tavern door swung open with an awful _CREAK_. Three figures stepped in: an irritable-looking man with a perpetual scowl, a slightly younger man with a prominent burn scar across one eye, and a familiar rose-haired woman who reeked of expensive perfume. 

Belladonna Davenport. He chuckled softly. Things were about to get interesting.

A few tables away, Ignatius Gibb was thinking the same thing. He didn’t know who they were (the eighteen-year-old had been indoctrinated into the Scythe only a few weeks prior), but something in the air had shifted when the trio entered. He turned to his boss, an oily woman with several missing front teeth named Mittie Doolan.

“Oi, boss, who’re they?” he whispered. Mittie looked up from her cards and laughed, showing off her blackened molars.

“We call those three the Vipers; they’re slippery, cool, and deadly.

“The man on the left, the one who always looks like he’s lost a hand of poker, that’s Ryan Flemmings. He’s some big shot with the Bank of Ardhalis. Regardless, he’s an absolute imbecile.”

“How ‘bout the one with the scar?” 

“Tim Sake. He’s been overseas a while, so I don’t know much about him. But they say his hair’s full of secrets.” Mittie gave Ignatius a bemused look. His mouth twisted.

“What kind of joke are you trying to pull? He’s nearly bald…?”

“Exactly. The man can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. I wouldn’t trust him further than I could spit. _PTUI!_ ” She spat a glob of saliva on the ground to emphasize her point.

“And the woman?” Ignatius prompted.

Mittie leaned back in her seat and gave him a crooked grin.

“Oh, where to begin? Belladonna Davenport is… flawless.”

One of their colleagues, a man with a patchy beard, set his tankard down with a resounding _thud_ and said, “She has two crocodile-leather purses and a golden dagger.”

Another colleague, a girl with dirty blonde hair, one of the hired muscle, continued, “I heard her hair’s insured for 10,000 pence.”

“Once, she slapped me in the face.” Everyone turned to stare back at the patchy-bearded man. “It was amazing,” he said dreamily.

“But don’t be fooled by the pink. She’s one of the Leader’s favorite assassins,” Mittie said, her tone serious. “I wouldn’t mess with her unless you were particularly keen to find yourself bleeding out in a dark alley.”

“I think I’m gonna go talk to her,” Ignatius said. 

The blonde girl pulled his arm back. “You don’t just _talk_ to Belladonna Davenport. She'll seek you out, if she deems you wicked enough. If you’re lucky, you’ll never have to talk to her. She’s too arrogant, anyways. She thinks herself above us common guttersnipes.”

Ignatius frowned. “Isn’t the point of this whole Phantom Scythe business to be beyond that? ‘All people are equal’ and whatnot?”

The other three exchanged looks.

“There’s still a lot you have to learn about the Scythe,” Mittie answered darkly. “But by all means, go ahead and talk to her.”

“Thanks, I will.” He set down his playing cards and got to his feet. Should he bring his beer mug? Would that make him look manlier? He rubbed the wisp of stubble growing on his chin. He knew he shouldn’t have shaved that morning.

Ignatius made to dust the dirt from his slacks before remembering that it was no use. Grime was inevitable in Greychapel, and it stuck to him like pollen to honeybees.

Plastering what he thought was a suave smile on his face, he turned mechanically to the bar counter and took a few robotic steps forward. _I bet I look so damn cool right now,_ he thought to himself, nodding to the other patrons.

_BAM!_

Ignatius collided with _something_. Color draining from his face, he looked up into the piercing turquoise eyes of a man a good head taller than him. There was something _unnatural_ about them, like they were staring right into his soul.

“I can’t believe he bumped into the _Purple Hyacinth_ ,” someone whispered behind him. Ignatius bit back a scream. The _Purple Hyacinth?_ The “Hanbury Street Massacre” Purple Hyacinth? The same Purple Hyacinth who had killed hundreds without hesitation, and who would now probably kill him, too?

“I am so sorry, sir!” Ignatius squeaked, bowing rapidly until his head started to hurt. _Please don’t kill me!_ He wanted to yell.

The Purple Hyacinth opened his mouth to speak, when a silvery, feminine voice called out.

“Kieran? Fancy seeing you here tonight,” Belladonna said, her voice dripping with venom.

“Belladonna Davenport! How do you do, _old friend_?” He said the words as if they were a threat. Really, they were. He wasn’t one for the long, drawn-out conversations that were surely inevitable right now. All he’d wanted to do was to slip out of the room quietly and wait for the Messenger’s appearance in the corridor. But alas, Belladonna had a way of always making herself the center of attention.

“Come, sit.” Belladonna gestured to the open barstool next to one of her associates, the man with the scar.

Grudgingly, he took the seat.

“Meet my associates,” Belladonna said, spreading her arms. “Tim Sake,” she nodded to the scarred man, “and Ryan Flemmings.”

Flemmings’ face, which had previously been stuck in a semipermanent glower, slipped into a confused expression.

“If you’re the _Purple_ Hyacinth, why are you white?” 

“Oh my god, Flemmings, you can’t just ask people why they’re white.” Sake sounded exasperated.

Kieran gave an awkward chuckle. “Actually, my last name is White. So, yes, I am White.”

“How clever.” Belladonna fixed him with her tawny gaze. “You know what I’ve noticed, Kieran?” 

“What have you noticed?”

“You don’t have many friends, isn’t that right?”

_Ouch_. 

“Straight to the point, aren’t you? To be honest, I’m more of a lone wolf,” Kieran admitted. 

“Well, why don’t you join us for drinks this week, hmm? We don’t make this offer often.”

Kieran felt the heat of dozens of eyes on him like an uncomfortable blanket.

“Ha! How could I refuse such an offer?”

“Perfect.” Belladonna’s lips curved upwards, revealing pearly teeth as shiny and cold as her eyes. “We’ll have to lay down some ground rules, though.”

“On Wednesdays, we commit treason,” Flemmings said, brightening.

“On Wednesdays, we commit treason!” the other two sang.

“Come sit with us tomorrow,” Sake said. “It’ll be _bomb_!”

**Author's Note:**

> hahah get it? bc of allendale? ok, i'll see myself out.
> 
> *word vomit/author’s notes time!*
> 
> mkay so i was gonna make karen smith (the manager from the golden clover) karen smith because they literally have the same name, but i then thought harvey fit karen better bc he’s a major bella simp (tbh, who isn’t?) and both have that innocent-but-not-really vibe. i finally had to settle for flemmings bc of plot purposes. you’ll see why next chapter. “what?!” you may be thinking. “grace isn’t writing a one-shot for once?” well, hopefully there will be a next chapter if i can remember to write it. :(
> 
> side note: imagine bella singing “world burn” and regina's part in "meet the plastics". do it. that’s basically what i did while writing this. you’re welcome for the serotonin, by the way.
> 
> anyways, i’m laugh-crying because both this fic and my mf lice fic are both wayyy longer than my serious fics. I HATE HOW MUCH EFFORT I PUT INTO MY CRACK FICS. even this author’s note is like half the length of “la fin”. hELP- 
> 
> i dunno if you’ve noticed, but i do not vibe with writing description. that’s why all my fics are so dialogue-heavy. :’) i’m like that meme where the dude is running away from the other flying shadow dude behind him (i’m the dude running and “writing description” is the flying dude.) someone pls teach me how to write description or how to write longer fics in general--i don’t have any money to pay you with but i do have lots of memes and stupid au ideas.
> 
> xoxo, grace


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